


A Walk To Remember

by EllanaSan



Series: Have a Drink Sweetheart (Hayffie Prompts/one shots collection) [49]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, book!verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-22 07:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30035418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllanaSan/pseuds/EllanaSan
Summary: “So… Why are you brooding out there, Haymitch?” Sae asked after a while.“Ain’t brooding.” he denied.Greasy Sae had known him since he was born, however, and she never had liked it when he lied to her so he wasn’t surprised when she whacked the back of his head – even if she had to raise on tip-toes and stretch her arm to do it. “Don’t give me attitude, boy.”
Relationships: Haymitch Abernathy & Greasy Sae, Haymitch Abernathy/Effie Trinket
Series: Have a Drink Sweetheart (Hayffie Prompts/one shots collection) [49]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/71774
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	A Walk To Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: can I please prompt haymitch getting angry/frustrated with Effie after the war because she’s in such a bad state that she refuses to do anything at all and he feels like she doesn’t even want to try and make the effort to get better

Haymitch stormed out of his house in a rage and kept walking, well past Katniss’ house and the tempting smoke that rose out of her chimney. Katniss would let him vent and rant, not like the boy who would interrupt with worried questions and…

But there was no talking to the kids about this.

The kids didn’t know the extent of the problem even though Haymitch privately thought they had suspicions and he wasn’t going to betray _her_ again by spilling out secrets that weren’t his to give.

But, _fuck_ , did he want to.

It was a bad day, he mused as he strode past the broken fountain that had half-crumbled during the bombings from the tremors alone, just a bad day. They had had bad days before, all of them, he could _understand_ that.

The problem was…

The problem was that since Effie Trinket had showed up on his doorstep in a frayed pink coat, drenched, and with more problems than he knew what to do with, it seemed like there had been more bad days than good ones.

He was doing _everything_ he could. _Hell_ , he _had_ _done_ everything he could _already_. He had paid off her debts so she could breathe a little more easily, he had offered her a place to stay for as long as she wanted it, he had _fucking_ dusted the guest room and he tolerated her cleaning the house at all hours of the day and night because she claimed it wasn’t spotless, he let her sneak into his bed in the middle of the night and he held her after nightmares and allowed the pretence come morning than nothing had happened, he had never given her up to the kids who weren’t quite fooled by her act that everything was perfectly fine… He had tried to get her to talk, to tell him what was wrong… He had tried to identify all her triggers so he didn’t push her buttons by accident… He had…

His feet had taken him to the old Seam, the one that wasn’t quite being rebuilt yet, and he made his way through abandoned shacks and the occasional rubble. He wasn’t sure where he was going until he found himself standing in front of where his old house used to be. Well… Where _the house that had been built on the foundation of his old house_ used to be. It had been torn down again, a distant victim of the chemical bombings that had destroyed the center of town.

He wasn’t really sure what he was doing there.

He was just lost, mostly.

He wanted to help Effie. _Fuck_ , he did… He knew she would never be the same woman again, never the innocent wide-eyed girl he had met more than a decade ago – _hell_ , she hadn’t been _that_ woman in years, working for the Games would do that to anyone – but he wanted her to get to a version of herself where she could laugh that bright laugh of hers again, smile, loose the perpetual tension in her shoulders, maybe even _see_ that _he_ …

He was tired of the trembling woman who wouldn’t get out of bed two days out of three and didn’t make an obvious effort if the children weren’t around to pretend for. He was tired of carrying trays of food to the guest room only to bring them back to the kitchen untouched. It wasn’t just the waste of perfectly good food because he could always put it away in the fridge, it was… He was tired of watching her waste away as if she didn’t care one bit about what would happen to her. He was tired of having to coax her out of the wardrobe where she sometimes hid for reasons clear only to her fragile mind. He was tired of…

“What are you doing here, boy?”

He had been so lost in his own thoughts that he startled, his hand fleeing to his belt and the knife he still carried everywhere. He relaxed when he spotted Sae making her way through the damaged street, a heavy looking pot of colorful flowers in her arms.

He automatically reached out to relieve her of the flowerpot, adjusting its grip on it because it _was_ heavy. “Where are you going with that?”

Her lips twisted in what could have been a smile or a pout but she didn’t comment on his appropriating her flowers so he fell into steps with her.

“The old graveyard.” she said.

He made a face but kept walking because there was no way he was letting her carry something _that_ heavy all the way there. “Are they still talking about demolishing it for good?”

He wasn’t really on top of Twelve’s rebuilding situation. He had followed from afar in the beginning, had even helped some when the boy dragged him to the sites with him, but since Effie’s arrival… He only knew some people were lobbying to tear the old graveyard to the ground because Katniss wasn’t happy about it. Her father’s remains were there – or had been, he wasn’t sure which part her father was in and he wasn’t sure which part of the graveyard was still standing. And yet, Peeta had argued in a quiet voice, the cemetery was so damaged that there wasn’t much else to do _but_ destroy what was left and start anew.

Haymitch didn’t have much of a opinion.

He hadn’t been to check on his family’s grave.

There hadn’t been much in the grave to begin with and he hadn’t visited for years.

“They’re saying it’s a safety hazard.” the old woman grumbled. “Have you been?”

“No.” he muttered.

Sae shot him a look and, this time, her lips were definitely pursed in disapproval. Probably because she knew just how long it had been since he had actually paid the graveyard a visit. “Yeah, well… It’s a mess. They’re not wrong. We lost so much already, it’s just hard to lose our dead too.”

So many people had gone without a grave during the war… Chaff, Finnick, all the unidentified remains they had gathered in the mass grave in the meadow… It was hard to see the point of tombstones anymore but he shrugged his understanding anyway because he was an old bitter man and his opinion wasn’t always the best one.

They walked in silence for a while, forced to take detours to avoid the most damaged streets. He wondered when the work crew would get to this part of town. It was slow progress. Not only because of the occasional rubbles but also because Sae wasn’t as quick as she used to be nowadays.

“So… Why are you brooding out there, Haymitch?” Sae asked after a while.

“Ain’t brooding.” he denied.

Greasy Sae had known him since he was born, however, and she never had liked it when he lied to her so he wasn’t surprised when she whacked the back of his head – even if she had to raise on tip-toes and stretch her arm to do it. “Don’t give me attitude, boy.”

He rolled his eyes, more amused than annoyed, and then shrugged again before adjusting his hold on her flowerpot. “Ain’t brooding, just… _Thinking_. About stuff.”

“Ah, _stuff_.” she mocked. “That stuff wouldn’t happen to be that girl of yours, would it?”

“She ain’t…” He automatically started to deny and then stopped himself because… What good would it do? In Twelve, right then, it was better if people perceived Effie to be _his._ Not everyone was happy about her moving there and he knew there was grumbling. Nobody had said anything to his face yet and the children were doing damage control which was going a long way into smoothing things over but he knew there would probably be troubles at some point and, at _that_ point, it would be better if people knew they were somehow involved. _If_ they were _still_ involved. That was part of the things he wasn’t sure about anymore. There had been no kissing, no hint that she wanted…

“You don’t have to keep her locked up in your house, you know.” Sae snorted, almost fond. “Sure, there are some people who ain’t too happy about it but… You vouch for her, boy, it’s enough for me. Bring her to the restaurant sometimes… I’ll make it nice. Get you a candle. Girls like romance.”

“She doesn’t need me to lock herself up in the house.” he grumbled. “She’s good at doing that all by herself.”

Sae frowned, derision and disgust battling on her face. She made a good attempt at schooling it away but he saw it anyway. “What? We’re not good enough for your Capitol princess? Scared she’s going to get murdered in her bed, ain’t she?”

He bristled, glaring at her like he had never done before. “So much for my vouching for her being enough for you.”

She glared back and then softened a little. She let out a sigh. “Fair enough. It’s just… She ain’t helping her case holing herself up in the Village, that’s all. She hasn’t been in town once. If she shopped around, made an effort…”

The graveyard gates were in sight. One of them had fallen in the dust at some point, the other was hanging on one hinge. It was probably ironical that it had been like that since _before_ the bombings.

Haymitch could have left it at that, handed the flowers back and be on his way… His anger had abated a little. He was calm enough to go back home, try again to coax her into eating something… And if that didn’t work, there was a bottle of liquor with his name on it – except he would have to ration himself because he didn’t dare get shitfaced with her in that state and that was another thing he was irritated with her for and…

“She ain’t really in a state to shop around or make an effort.” he muttered, looking anywhere but at the old woman walking beside him. “I don’t want that story going around, mind. The kids… They ain’t exactly _aware_.”

Sae, to her credit, didn’t immediately ask questions or hound him for explanations. Then again, she had decades of experience getting stuff out of him. She was probably the only person he had still been regularly in contact with during the twenty-four years he had spent as Twelve’s only victor. When he had been tired of isolating himself in his house, it had been at her booth in the Hob that he went. For food, or so he told himself. But it was her company he sought.

She walked through the cemetery gates and, after taking a deep breath, he followed.

He hated that place and it was worse than he remembered. Graves had been split open, some rotten planks of woods were poking out, tombstones had been blown to smithereens, there were big potholes they had to walk around… It reminded him of the city in the aftermath of Snow’s rendition…

Sae’s daughter’s grave was one of the few that seemed to have miraculously stayed untouched by the surrounding destruction. She took the flowerpot from him and arranged it the way she wanted, tossing away the dead flowers that had been there.

Haymitch left her to it, walking a little distance away… He wasn’t surprised that the corner his mother and his brother had been laid to rest in was one that had been obliterated. It seemed fitting somehow.

He didn’t feel sad.

He didn’t feel much of anything.

“They’re just bones.” Sae said quietly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “My daughter too. She ain’t there anymore. That’s why I’m not kicking a fuss about them wanting to destroy the graveyard.”

“I know.” he confessed. “We can’t do anything for the dead.”

They had gotten them _justice_. He had _tried_ anyway. There was nothing left to do for the dead but try to make the most of the life they had been left behind to enjoy.

At least, _that_ was what he had been telling the kids.

He had always been a good liar.

“It’s the living we need to worry about.” she agreed, patting his shoulder. “Tell me about your girl.”

His grey eyes darted to another corner of the graveyard and, because fate just liked to torture him, _of course_ her grave was still there. A bit cracked but there. His feet took him to Mabel’s grave and Sae followed, careful not to trip on the holes and the bits of stone scattered around.

“Not that one, boy. That one’s been gone a long time and she wouldn’t have wanted you to pine for her as long as you did.” she scolded him. Like she had done a hundred times before.

It didn’t make the guilt disappear.

It had dulled a little since the war because he had more recent things to feel guilty about. The boy, Finnick, Prim, _Effie_ …

“She was hurt.” he said and it left a bad taste in his mouth, like he was betraying her once again. “Because of me.”

“Ah…” Sae nodded. “Rumors _are_ true, then.”

He wasn’t sure which rumors she was talking about. There were plenty to choose from. They hadn’t exactly given an official explanation as to why Effie had been spared a trial when all the other escorts or members of the Games staff had been executed. There were plenty of theories, some of which hit close to home, most of which involved him somehow.

“I don’t know how to help her anymore.” he confessed in a low voice, turning away from Mabel’s grave. He helped Sae step over a big pile of rubble and led the way toward the entrance, his hands buried in his pockets. “Might be beyond me.”

“The girl was in a bad place too.” she pointed out. “We got her out of it. No thanks to Aster Everdeen, mind.”

“It’s different.” he countered. Katniss had been… Katniss had been depressed, suicidal at some point, in withdrawal from morphling… All of that, he knew how to handle because _he_ had been _there_. He had lost his brother, he had dealt with bad thoughts on dark nights more than once and he had pressed his own knife to his wrist a few times over the years even though he had never gone through with it, he had cut off from liquor in Thirteen… He knew how to handle her at her worst because he was _intimately_ _acquainted_ with her worst.

“Why?” Sae mocked. “Cause she’s come alive again when the boy showed up and your girl ain’t all rainbow and sunshine thanks to you?” She snorted. “I hate to say it, boy, but youth is resilient in a way us, old people, _aren’t_.”

“It’s not that.” he snapped, annoyed. “I don’t expect her to get better just ‘cause I’m here.” She studied him for a long moment, long enough that he fidgeted, uncomfortable with the attention. “Watch where you’re going. It ain’t safe.”

If she fell and broke her hip, it would be a mess. Sae was keeping their community together. They needed her.

“You love her, yeah?” she challenged. He jerked his head in the other direction, his heart hammering in his chest. His hands were clammy suddenly. He patted his inner pocket and cursed under his breath when he realized he had left his flask in the kitchen. Apparently, it was all the answer Sae needed because she clucked her tongue once. “It’s _exactly_ what you thought, boy. You thought _you_ ’d be enough to make her feel better ‘cause you’re a romantic idiot.”

“I’m really _not_.” he scoffed.

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve known you your whole life. You can’t fool me.” She pursed her lips and stopped walking, planting her hands on her hips. “So… You’re out there brooding ‘cause you’ve made it all about you, ain’t you? You’re frustrated cause you want her to be better and she ain’t.”

“It’s been _weeks_.” he retorted defensively. “She’s getting _worse_. Unless the kids are around…” He shook his head and passed a hand over his face. “ _Fuck_ , I’m considering asking them to move in just so she stops…”

Stop hiding in the wardrobe. Stop freaking out at loud noises. Stop crying until she was red in the face. Stop starving herself. Stop pretending she didn’t have a problem.

He shook his head harder and he said it again: “I don’t know _how_ to help her anymore.”

Sae lifted her eyebrows. “So you want her out of your hair?”

“Ain’t what I said.” he spat. “I just… I want her to get _better_. I want her to…” He sighed. “She ain’t even _trying_.”

“Seems to me like she is.” she pointed out. “You said she doesn’t want Katniss and Peeta to know how bad she is…”

“That’s her pride.” he dismissed. But that was unfair so he sighed. “And she loves them. She doesn’t want them worrying.” He kicked a pebble. “She doesn’t care if _I_ worry.”

“So your brilliant conclusion from that is that she doesn’t love _you_ , is that it, boy?” Sae taunted. “My, for someone so smart, you can be thick sometimes…”

“It’s complicated.” he muttered. “You don’t know…”

“I _don’t_ know. And I don’t know that girl of yours either so maybe I’m off base here but it seems to me like she’s _trusting_ you to catch her when she’s in a very bad place.” she cut him off. “Seems to me like you’re out there feeling sorry for yourself when she’s just trying to deal with bad stuff in her head. I’m sorry to say, Haymitch, but _you_ haven’t been the cheeriest person since your Games… _Seems to me_ if _anyone_ should get that some people need _time_ to get through bad stuff, it’d be _you_.”

He opened his mouth to argue and then closed it because she had a point. Dully chastised, he kicked another pebble. “I hate it when you do that.”

She snorted and jutted her chin ahead to indicate he should start walking again. “I loved your mother like a sister, you know.”

“I know.” he acknowledged.

“Yeah, well…” the old woman grumbled. “You lost a mother, I lost a child. You’ve got to allow me to pretend sometimes. Particularly when you’re being stupid.”

He chuckled and, if she noticed it was a little sad, she didn’t comment.

They talked about more cheerful things on their way back to town. The bakery Peeta had almost finished, the few other shops that had popped up in the last couple of months… He made sure she was safely at her restaurant before saying goodbye.

She patted his arm awkwardly. “Bring that girl of yours around if she feels like it. And if she doesn’t… I might just walk up there myself and force-feed her some soup.”

“I’ll pass the threat along.” he promised.

It wasn’t a long trip to the Village even if his pace was less brisk than it had been when he had stormed out. He checked on the geese he had been neglecting before letting himself in through the backdoor.

He paused when he saw Effie sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of _something_ clenched between her hands. She was wearing a woolen sweater that had belong to him before she stole it. It was loose and fell down one of her bony shoulders. Her blond hair was dirty and gathered in a hasty ponytail, her eyes were reddish so he knew she had been crying even if there were no traces of tears.

He shouldn’t have shouted at her before leaving.

He shouldn’t have lost his patience.

“I made coffee.” she said, a bit cautiously. “I… I ate the toasts.”

One glance was enough to see she had also washed the plate the toasts had been on – _that,_ she hadn’t needed to do but she couldn’t bear if it everything wasn’t _spotless_.

“Good.” he approved, forcing himself to relax because he had gotten tense. He poured himself a mug of coffee, more to make her happy than because he wanted it, and sat down next to her.

She wasn’t drinking coffee, he noticed, but he wasn’t surprised. The state her body was in, coffee gave her stomachaches. But the fact that she had actually brewed herself a cup of her favorite tea was a good sign. At least, she had made an effort.

“I’m sorry.” she whispered, her voice cracking a little.

“No.” He shook his head and reached for one of her hands. She abandoned it to him readily enough. “ _I_ ’m sorry, sweetheart. I was an _ass_.”

She swallowed hard and jutted her chin up a little. “You rather _were_ , actually, but that doesn’t excuse the language.”

His lips stretched into a smirk and she smiled back. It was a shy one, not one of her mischievous grins or blinding smiles but…

He lived for those moments. Those moments when the old Effie would shine through the shell she had become. 

“I _am_ sorry though.” she insisted, looking down at their locked hands on the table. “I know I’m… _difficult_. I…” She glanced up at him, blue eyes pleading, and bit down on her bottom lip. “I’m trying, Haymitch, I _swear_. I just…”

“You need time.” he finished for her with a small terse smile. “I know. It’ s fine. I just get worried sometimes, that’s all.”

She lifted their joined hands to her lips and placed a fleeting kiss on the back of his. It was brief, barely a caress of a kiss, and she didn’t meet his eyes afterwards. “I don’t want to be a burden to you. I…”

“You’re not a _burden_.” he cut her off. “ _Fuck_ , you could never be…” He sighed and shook his head. “You’re not a _fucking_ burden, Effie, I just don’t know how to _help_ when it gets so bad…”

“I’m not sure you _can_ help.” she whispered. “I’m not sure _anyone_ can help.”

He hesitated. “The kids’ head doctor… Aurelius…”

“No.” she refused. “No more doctors.”

“He ain’t that bad…” he insisted but it was lukewarm because he wasn’t a fan of doctors either and he could understand she had seen enough of them to last her a lifetime.

“I will get through this, Haymitch.” she promised. “On my own. I just… I need time.”

He forced his lips to stretch into something that could have passed for a smile and he stood up, dropping a kiss on the top of her head so she wouldn’t see his face. “You can have all the time in the world, princess.”

It would get better.

He had to believe that.

He _had_ to.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! It's been a while since I wrote Sae so this was fun... I like to hc she and Haymitch have a special bond so... yeah. Poor Haymitch needs holidays too haha. Let me know your thoughts!


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